


Expectations and Melancholies

by agent_orange



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Fantasizing, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Open Relationships, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:50:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2063535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_orange/pseuds/agent_orange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Doing something about it" takes one of two courses of action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expectations and Melancholies

Brad's been gone for just over eight months now, and Nate's understandably having a hard time with it. Nate flew out there around the three-month mark for a few days, but that was the last time they saw it each other, and it was much too briefly. Provided Brad doesn't get deployed between now and then, he gets two weeks of leave at the holidays, and is flying in to spend it with Nate. But the interim isn't easy. During the day, Nate has work to occupy his time, and he's always so busy that he doesn't have time to think about it. The house is always empty when he gets home, though, and so quiet. Sometimes he thinks he can see Brad sitting across the room, waxing his board or puzzling through a particularly difficult piece of computer code; sometimes he hears Brad come up with an insulting comment about Ray or the sad state of the nation, but it's all in his head. It makes him feel like he's going crazy.

During OIF, Nate didn't jack off at all. There was enough time for it, but he tamped down all the feelings that weren't strictly invasion-related. (Which meant, of course, tamping down all his feelings for Brad—almost impossible with Brad calling him ' _sir_ ' in that _voice_ and sharing his feelings regarding their command and looking at Nate like he _knew_ , like he felt the same way.) Nate can't do that now.

When he gets horny, he tries to ignore it. He does something especially unsexy, like cleaning out his file cabinet. The problem with that is he can only do it for so long before he gets so hard he _has_ to do something about it.

"Doing something about it" takes one of two courses of action.

One: (Brad gave Nate free reign as long as he's gone. Nate can't pay for it, but he can fuck whoever he wants, provided they're over the age of twenty-one and not affiliated with the military in any way. Also, he can't fuck the same person twice, and he can't _get_ fucked, but other than that, Nate's pretty much got _carte blanche_.) Nate heads to a bar—not too close to the house, though; the customers there are all either Marines or Marine-chasers. He drinks two beers and a shot before even surveying the AO.

Since Brad's been gone, Nate's done this a few times. (Maya, with green eyes and caramel skin, was the first. They did it at her place, slow and deliberate; Nate felt hyperaware of every move he made. There was Josh, whose half-finished tattoos made Nate feel sick to his stomach. Tori was last, this punk-rock girl with dark, spiky hair and a lip piercing and small breasts Nate held onto while she rode him.) It never feels good afterwards, and in the morning, when he wakes up alone in his own bed, hungover and sweaty, the emptiness rushes in.

Two: Nate jacks off. (The more common outcome. He's got a routine down by now—lock the bedroom door. Close the blinds. Turn his cell off. Take all his clothes off, even his socks. Past that, there's room for deviation from the routine.)

On occasion, he watches porn, but it's always too fake, too impersonal. In earlier months, Nate replayed past experiences, going over every detail in his mind as he stroked himself. That only went so far, though, and he's exhausted his collection of memories. Instead, he jerks off to a photo of Brad on libo in Hawaii that Ray so helpfully supplied. He's shirtless and tanned, a rare smile on his face; there are dents and smudges from Nate's fingers clutching it tightly while thinking about fucking Brad.

Other times, like now, he fantasizes, moving slowly to draw it out. There's so much they haven't done yet. (That's what he told Brad before he left, why Brad should _not_ get himself killed if the BRM get deployed. Brad had grinned. "Roger copy, sir," he said, before shoving Nate down onto the couch.) He wants to tease Brad with his fingers and make him come just from that, or just from getting fucked. He wants Brad to fuck him and then eat him out, make Nate kiss him after so he can taste both of them like that. He wants to go down on Brad in the shower, water streaming all around them, his whole world just them and the steam as he sucks Brad off.

Nate's balls are already heavy. He gives them each a gentle tug, trying to pretend Brad is the one doing it.

He imagines kissing Brad, too, curling up in bed with him and just making out. Nate can barely remember what it felt like to have Brad's tongue in his mouth, urgent and insistent, like he could never get enough. After they fuck and some of the edge is gone, Nate's going to tie Brad to the bed and kiss him until they're both dizzy. For all the comments Brad makes about Nate's mouth, Nate loves it just as much when Brad's lips get red and swollen, almost bruised. It may be primitive and antiquated, but he likes going out in public and having people know Brad is _his_. (In his mind, he's leaving bites down Brad's neck and soothing over them with kisses.)

Now, he speeds up his strokes, clutching the headboard as he gets closer. He swipes his thumb over the head of his dick, coming sooner than he'd expected. Without Brad, it's always too much and never enough at the same time.

The days disappear one by one on Nate's calender, every morning one closer to Brad coming home.


End file.
